


Slow Burn

by bioticbootyshaker



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-18
Updated: 2012-11-18
Packaged: 2017-11-18 23:32:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/566518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bioticbootyshaker/pseuds/bioticbootyshaker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the galaxy is at War, there's little time for romantic entanglement.</p><p>At least, that's what Liara tells herself when she realizes the attraction between herself and James. </p><p>Like most things you tell yourself, it doesn't carry a lot of weight when there's a fire burning inside of you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Heat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ManaMachina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ManaMachina/gifts).



> **Title:** Slow Burn  
>  **Fandom:** Mass Effect  
>  **Pairing:** James/Liara  
>  **Disclaimer:** Mass Effect (c) Bioware  & EA
> 
> A commission done for [auntymana](auntymana.tumblr.com). :)

i. Heat

When James entered the room, Liara’s stomach was immediately tied up in knots. Whenever she saw him -- whether it was only a brief moment when their eyes locked or boxed in tight together in the Kodiak, shoulders brushing, hips bumping she had to remind herself how to breathe. 

It wasn’t as though Liara was the only person aboard the Normandy who enjoyed the sight of James Vega and coveted every inch of his body. She was, in fact, only one of many. While the others ogled him with varying degrees of subtlety -- Cortez had thrown all subtlety out the window and preferred to do his objectifying right out loud where Vega could hear him and shake his head at Cortez’s come-ons -- Liara preferred to keep her mind focused on the task at hand and watch Vega from only the corner of her eye. 

_The Crucible_ , Liara constantly reminded herself, _The Catalyst. The Reapers. The war._

_James_ , her mind always persisted, mimicking her mantra, _James naked. James on his back. James inside of you. James_. 

It was the first time in her life where Liara was not in control of herself. She felt as though invisible hands steered her, guided her not to the place where she needed to be, but to the place that she _wanted_ to be. That was a dangerous thing. War had no room for wants or desires. It had room for need, for duty, for sacrifice, for long nights with a mug of coffee and Glyph as her only companions. 

Brown eyes, brown skin, full lips, muscled back and chest... The war certainly had no room for any of _those_ things, or at least not Liara’s admiration of them.

She worked, and while she worked, she _watched_. Liara had always been something of a voyeur; not in any kind of perverted sense, but she enjoyed watching people. She liked seeing how they behaved when they believed no one had their eyes on them. She liked listening to their conversations with the ones they kept closest. More than anything, she enjoyed how unguarded they could be, how relaxed and content and happy even as the entire galaxy trembled beneath the Reapers. 

James and Garrus had many conversations, most of them loud and boastful. Chest-pounding at its finest. Liara could almost smell the testosterone from across the room, and she chuckled to herself. There were some men who, no matter what was happening or how much they had lost, could be counted upon to brag over the silliest little accomplishments.

“I ever tell you about the time I sparred with Shepard?” James asked.

“If you’re still alive, he took it easy on you,” Garrus said, “Now, the time I went toe-to-toe with a Justicar deserves some mention...”

Liara rolled her eyes. _Did I ever tell the two of you how I became the Shadow Broker?_ Yes, that would certainly throw a wrench into their battle of machismo, but Liara remained quiet and continued searching through her files. 

“Justicar, huh?” James asked, “Little jealous, Scars. Asari are damn sexy. Don’t understand much about ‘em, but yeah. _Sexy_.”

Her face heated up. Did he realize she could hear him? No, probably not. Garrus might have been shameless enough, but Liara doubted James was. 

She looked, and yes, James was looking _at her_. There was a smile at the corner of his mouth, and his dark eyes seemed to be gleaming. Liara felt her stomach tighten, roll with heat. She meant to look away, to pretend she hadn’t seen his warm eyes and crooked smile, to spare herself the disappointment of realizing he hadn’t been looking at her after all, but she kept staring at him. Her inexperience, sexually and romantically, lent itself well to her eyes refusing to leave James’ face; Liara honestly didn’t know when it a stare became inappropriate.

“Justicars aren’t exactly sexy so much as they are... intimidating. Asari, yes, sexiest race in the galaxy, but their Justicars are just as likely to rip your spine out as they are to share in a little pillow talk.”

“Dunno about any of that,” James said, his eyes still fixed on Liara’s flushed face. “But I know what I like, Scars.”

Garrus followed his gaze, and scratched the side of his head. “Right,” he said, “Good luck with that.”

****

Time was not an asset they had in great numbers, or one they could afford to waste. Liara remained convinced that the Reapers would extinguish organic life in her lifetime if the Crucible failed; it was a sobering thought, as well as a painful one. She didn’t want to think of losing her friends, of being one of the last to stand amidst the rubble and fire.

And so, with nothing else to do, Liara worked. She worked until her vision was blurry and her head ached, and then she worked a few hours more before crawling into bed and letting everything be blissfully dark for a few hours. 

It was a few hours more than Shepard had been getting. Liara could tell, just by looking at him, that he was tired to the bone. She knew him too well, she knew every story behind every line on his face. And she knew, better than most, that he needed to be at his best or their chances were significantly reduced.

“You’re not sleeping, Shepard,” Liara said. Softly, gently, as was her way; but her eyes were stern and her jaw was set. Shepard chuckled, rubbing his hand over his buzzed head and looking away from her. “Yeahhh,” he murmured, “Well, you know, it’s not like I don’t try.”

“Try harder,” Liara said, “You need your rest. Honestly, a Commander isn’t worth much if he’s overtired.”

“You have just the right amount of concern and cruelty, Liara,” Shepard chuckled.

“There is no cruelty here,” Liara said, smiling softly and laying her hand over Shepard’s. “I’m worried about you. That’s all.”

Yes, that was Liara T’Soni, worried about everyone. Watching over them as though she had become some kind of Matriarch. She enjoyed having people to look out for, people to tell when to sleep, when to wake up, when to move, when it was okay to let some things go. More than anything, she liked having people around her with whom she felt comfortable, safe, taken care of. They might have been fighting a war, but they were also being good to one another.

She pushed back from her desk, rubbing her eyes. It was late -- or early, Liara had honestly lost all concept of time -- and her bed looked incredibly inviting. 

There was a knock at her door. 

Liara sighed. Allers, most likely, fishing for a story. Liara had run the woman off more times than she cared to count, telling her that what was happening on Thessia was not merely a sound bite she could send to her editors -- there were people fighting and dying, all across the galaxy. Diana might have meant well enough, but Liara couldn’t understand her motivation. 

The last person Liara expected to see when she opened her door was James. 

“Thought you might still be awake,” James said, “And, y’know, I thought you could use a nightcap. Or somethin’. I brought some wine.” He held out the bottle to Liara, who could only blink, slowly, and look up at him with her head tilted, almost comically, in confusion.

“C’mon, Doc,” James murmured, “You gonna leave me standin’ in the hall like some kind of loser or you gonna invite me in?”

Well, that was a good question. In fact, if Liara had to guess, she would have bet money that a better question had never been asked. Still, she stood there, blinking up at James, letting her eyes wander from his warm eyes to his broad shoulders down to the extended bottle of wine. 

“Ah... Yes, come in,” Liara whispered, “I’m sorry, I just--- I’ve been so busy.”

“Tell me about it,” James said, stepping in past her. He looked around her room, giving a low, appreciative whistle. “Lot nicer than my digs, I’ll tell ya that.” 

Liara wasn’t sure what to say, or where to place herself, or how to hold James’ eyes without letting him see every little secret in her own. She cleared her throat and invited him to sit down; she almost pointed towards the bed, but managed to catch herself and direct her hand towards the sofa. James took a seat, setting the bottle of wine on the coffee table. 

“Guess I wanted to tell you I was sorry,” James said. “You know, about what I said about the Asari. Besides bein’ really sleazy, it sounded kinda racist looking back.” He laughed, nervously scratching behind his ear, waiting for Liara to absolve him of something that she had never even noticed in the first place. 

“No, that... It’s all right.” She took a seat beside him, keeping some distance between them. She could feel his heat and smell his skin even with a buffer between them. Liara wondered if he knew just how much she wanted him, how badly she _needed_ him, and she figured that, no, he didn’t. “Really, I’ve heard much worse when it comes to men and their... opinion of the Asari.”

“Not so much the Asari, though,” James said. He sounded reserved, a little shy. He looked at his hands as though they had become the most interesting things in the galaxy. “I kind of just... think _you’re_ beautiful. I mean, uh... Sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry,” Liara said. Her voice was gentle, as was her touch on his shoulder. There were things under her heart, along the sides of her throat, that she wanted to say, to do, to make him feel. Instead, she squeezed his shoulder and gave him a tender smile. 

Everything in Asari culture stood on ceremony. Others might have seen them as dull, or even strict, but it was their ways. Humans, though, seemed fond of barrelling through with nothing but adrenaline and hope to sustain them. They had miles of courage and heart, and an almost laughable lack of foresight. 

Liara was reminded of this when James moved closer and covered her mouth with his. 

It was not her first kiss, nor was it the first tongue in her mouth. It was the first time, however, where control had been taken from her. Her stomach tightened, her blood quickened, her skin was warm and flushed under James’ hands. The lack of control was exciting, but it was too much, too fast. She pushed him away, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. 

“If you came for a drink, you are doing it wrong,” Liara said.

“I’m really sor---”

“Just leave,” Liara snapped. She was too twisted up inside and too tired to try and control her tone, or keep her tongue civil. “I’m not sure what perverted fantasies you might have about my race, James, but I can assure you we are not all sex-starved and aching for the touch of anyone who happens to smile at us and bring us wine.”

James reached out and touched her knee. “I really didn’t mean it like that,” he said, “Come on.”

“Out,” Liara whispered. Her voice was close to a hiss. She had never heard herself sound like that before. She couldn’t understand why she was so angry -- but perhaps it had something to do with hoping James had seen her as something more than a pretty object to be used and enjoyed. 

He left, but not without looking back at her over his shoulder on his way out. 

“I’m really sorry,” he repeated, “Really, Liara. This... isn’t how I wanted tonight to go.”

“I know how you wanted it to go,” Liara said, “Believe me.”

*****

Why had she behaved like a child? 

At the very least, she could have told James that the kiss was welcome, his tongue and his touch were wanted and desired. Liara could have told him that she had never taken a lover, she had never allowed herself to get that close, to tear down her own walls and allow intimacy to dominate her. There was no room in her life -- before or since becoming the Shadow Broker -- for vulnerability. 

Instead she had berated him, made him feel small, made him feel unwanted. 

Liara crawled into bed, her head and chest aching, and let the world be blackness for a few hours.


	2. Combustion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Liara rested her face against his chest. She listened to his heart beating, stronger now, steady. The tears were back, but she wouldn’t let them fall. Instead, Liara tilted her face up, tangling her fingers in James’ shirt. When his lips pressed to hers, Liara made a noise caught desperately between a moan and a whimper, and let her hand slide up to rest over the pulse in his throat.
> 
> “Really,” James said, breath warm on Liara’s lips, “I just came for a drink.”
> 
> “I want you inside of me,” Liara whispered. She looked up at him unflinchingly, her thumb caressing his jaw. “I _need_ you.”

ii. Combustion

James did his best to keep distance between them. He did this more for Liara’s sake than his own. She had been right to throw him out after the way he had behaved. Honestly, James could count on one hand the number of times he had initiated anything sexual with a woman. He liked to boast and brag and flirt shamelessly, but when it came down to it, James Vega was unskilled, unprepared, and unequipped to handle what came _after_ the flirting.

There was no blame to lay at Liara’s feet. He had come on too strong and made her uncomfortable. He hadn’t meant to do it, but of course what he had meant to do didn’t matter much. James had only wanted to show her how much she meant to him, and of course he had only been able to do that with his mouth and his hands. Distancing himself from Liara was for her sake, that much was true, but James was also trying to spare himself the discomfort of knowing how she thought of him when he was close to her.

“It’s amazing to me how you can be so concerned about that when there are Reapers down on Earth,” Cortez said.

“What can I say, Esteban? She’s... Man, I don’t know. She’s _something_.”

“If this military thing doesn’t work out for you, Mr. Vega, you might want to consider getting into the greeting card business.” He chuckled and shook his head. “That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. ‘You know, Liara... You’re... Man, I don’t know. _Something_.’”

“‘Ey, if I wanted this kind of abuse, I’d be talkin’ to _Loco_ ,” James said, “I thought you might be, you know, a little more sympathetic.”

“I’m sympathetic,” Cortez said, “To a degree. But look, if you want to try and make things work, you have to be a little patient. You try to force this kind of stuff and you just seem... desperate. And creepy. Sorry, I left out creepy.”

“You’re the worst at this,” James said. “Really. You suck, Esteban.”

Steve laughed and patted Cortez on the shoulder. “Just let it go,” he said, softly, squeezing James’ shoulder. “I’m sorry, James, but... It’s not the right time or place.”

James looked at his hands, stained with grease, too rough, too callused to touch anyone without hurting them. “It’s hard to let go,” he whispered.

“Tell me about it,” Cortez whispered, before turning from James and wiping at his eyes. James didn’t ask him why he was crying -- in a galaxy where the whole of organic existence was being threatened with extinction, it seemed like a stupid question to ask.

He preferred to think Cortez had gotten dust in his eyes.

****

_Thessia._

Beautiful, warm, perfect Thessia.

Liara looked at the corpses of her sisters, at the burning wreckage of her home, and felt an internal shift. She didn’t cry, she didn’t scream, she didn’t flinch. Inside, she _changed_. It amazed her how there was always one scrap of innocence left to lose, always one last vestige that hadn’t been chipped away yet. After seeing Thessia on fire, Liara doubted any remained.

She was wrong.

_Kai Leng_. Never in her life had Liara felt such an overwhelming desire to close her hands around someone’s throat. Never had her blood burned for the feel of a windpipe under her thumbs, slowly being crushed. He was gone with the data, though, and her hands were empty. That was when she noticed James wasn’t with them, and that was when the last bit of her innocence, what had held on for so long and through so much, was gone.

Shepard found him lying near the central altar, bleeding heavily. It was just like Thane, Liara thought, and her stomach climbed into her throat. Kai Leng wouldn’t be satisfied until he had taken everything from them; until Shepard was kneeling in the rubble with no one left to look after him.

“James,” Shepard said. His fingers curled into James’ cheek. He was ashen from blood loss, his lips no longer a warm shade of brown, but a sick gray. “James, hey,” Shepard tried again, “I need you to stay with me, okay? We have to get out of here.”

His eyes opened. Liara realized she hadn’t been breathing. She took in a deep breath, held it, and exhaled slowly.

“You... gonna kiss me, Commander?” James asked. He tried to laugh, but he ended up coughing, flecks of blood landing on Shepard’s face.

“Not today, James,” Shepard whispered, “Not unless you buy me dinner first.”

Shepard looked to Liara. “Medi-gel?” He asked.

Liara nodded.

“Come sit with him, then,” Shepard said. “I have to get Cortez. We need to get off of Thessia.”

It was too much. Her home was dying around her, James was dying in front of her, everything had gone to hell. Liara knelt beside James and felt tears sting at her eyes. No, she couldn’t cry, she _wouldn’t_. Hers was not the only world under Reaper attack, her people were not the only ones fighting and dying. Despite her best efforts, Liara felt the tears inch down her face. She cursed herself under her breath, applying the medi-gel to the deep stab wound at James’ side. Amazing it had penetrated so deep, considering the armor he wore, but Liara supposed Kai Leng had his resources as surely as they did.

“C’mon, Doc,” James whispered, reaching up and wiping a tear away with his thumb. He smiled, weakly, letting his thumb linger, inching along the freckles across her cheek. “No reason to... cry over me, huh?”

Her lips touched his thumb, softly, her fingers wrapping around his wrist. His pulse was erratic, quick and faint. Liara closed her eyes, allowing his thumb to circle her lips. She tasted her own tears, and everything seemed to come apart at the seams. For so long she had been so intent on getting the job done, on doing her best and ignoring all distractions, that she had failed to realize _this_ was not a distraction at all. A hand against her cheek, a thumb curled against her bottom lip, a soft voice, a warm pair of eyes -- in a galaxy that was plagued by war and beset by monsters, it seemed to be the only thing that made sense.

“Cortez is on his way. I hope he can make it with everything going on out there.” Shepard sat down with them, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes, bringing his fingers roughly down his face. “Jesus Christ,” he sighed, and then he was growling, low, through his teeth, and slamming his fist against the ground. “Jesus _Christ!_ ”

“Shepard,” Liara whispered.

He rested his head back, reaching out and taking Liara’s hand. His free hand rested on James’ head, fingertips stroking gently over his scalp. “All this fighting,” Shepard said, “All this dying. I’m sick of it. I’m sick of Cerberus being one step ahead of us. I’m sick of fighting them when we should be fighting the Reapers. I’m _goddamn sick_ of this war.”

“‘Ey,” James whispered, “Know what... I’m sick of, Loco?”

“What?”

“Your damn fingers in my hair,” he said.

They all laughed. Even with Thessia burning, even with Cerberus winning, even with the Reapers destroying everything they loved and knew and held close to their hearts.

They laughed.

****

Chakwas couldn’t convince him to take it easy. Cerberus had to be hunted down, the Reapers had to be destroyed, the galaxy needed to be saved. He accepted medi-gel, and stitches, and let her roll her eyes and bite her tongue. What would it matter if Lieutenant James Vega dropped dead, as long as the galaxy was okay? He didn’t place a lot of importance on his own survival.

It hurt like a bitch, James wasn’t going to lie about that. But the wound was closed and in time it would heal. Cortez clucked his tongue when James was back in the Shuttle Bay the day after receiving his injuries, dancing around the punching bag. “Gonna re-open those wounds,” Cortez said, “And after all the hell I went through to get to you before you bled out all over the damn place.”

“‘Preciate it, Esteban,” James said, throwing his punches, leading with his right shoulder, dodging and ducking as though he fought something more than a bag on a hook. “But I ain’t about to laze around when there’s Reaper ass to kick.”

“You wanna tell me how you’re even able to _walk_?” Cortez asked. “I saw you, James, you looked... Really bad.” There was a note of concern in Steve’s voice; a little deeper and warmer than _friendly_ concern, too.

“Doc said it wasn’t as bad as it looked,” James said, “Missed my organs. Lost some blood, that’s it. Guess that Kai Leng is kind of shit at being an assassin.”

“You need to take it easy,” Cortez said. It was about the millionth time that day that James had heard the phrase, in that exact tone of voice. Everyone was treating him like he was made of glass, like he couldn’t handle himself.

“You think the fuckin’ Reapers are gonna take it easy?” James snapped. He turned to Cortez, or rather, _on_ him. He might have lost a significant amount of blood, but the blood he had left was pounding in his veins, throbbing at his temples. He wanted to tell Cortez to shove his concern and his tender little voice where the sun didn’t shine, but one look into his wounded blue eyes, and James felt all the fight go out of him. “Sorry,” he muttered.

“Don’t be,” Cortez said, “You’re right. It doesn’t matter how we get it done, just that we do.”

No, he wasn’t. He wasn’t right. Nothing was right anymore. James took a seat and let the sweat cool on his body.

He thought of his thumb against Liara’s lips, the way she had looked at him, the way her skin had trembled under his touch. She had lost a home, and sisters, and too many precious things.

That was what mattered.

****

“Just here for the drink this time,” James said.

He expected Liara to close the door in his face. When she didn’t, James wasn’t sure what to do with himself.

“Come inside,” Liara said, softly.

James stepped inside and let the door seal itself behind him. Liara took the bottle of wine from him and set it aside, replaced his empty arms with her body.

“I’m really sorry,” he whispered. He wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for. The way he had behaved the last time he had been alone with her, almost dying on Thessia, or perhaps he was sorry for Thessia. Maybe he was sorry for everything, for the entire war, for the entire struggle, for all the people who had died and all the people who _would_ die.

Liara rested her face against his chest. She listened to his heart beating, stronger now, steady. The tears were back, but she wouldn’t let them fall. Instead, Liara tilted her face up, tangling her fingers in James’ shirt. When his lips pressed to hers, Liara made a noise caught desperately between a moan and a whimper, and let her hand slide up to rest over the pulse in his throat.

“Really,” James said, breath warm on Liara’s lips, “I just came for a drink.”

“I want you inside of me,” Liara whispered. She looked up at him unflinchingly, her thumb caressing his jaw. “I _need_ you.”

Well, what could he say? He had to give the lady what she wanted.

He was nothing if not a gentleman.

Somehow, Liara ended up pressed against the wall, her hands pinned above her head, James’ mouth rough on hers. She could feel her blood beating hard through her veins, her heart hammering against her ribcage, her mind going pleasantly hazy. She was not on Thessia, watching the world burn, smelling the burning bodies of her sisters; James took her away from that, away from her guilt and shame and heartache.

His mouth touched her throat, his tongue sliding along her pulse before his teeth were there, hard, rough, the right pressure to make her moan his name. Liara barely felt her clothes being opened, thankful that she had changed into a nightgown before James had arrived -- although watching him fuss and fumble with armor would have been highly entertaining.

Too much heat; Liara couldn’t focus on anything. She finally realized she was naked when James slipped down and took a nipple between his teeth, nibbling, sucking, dancing his tongue over her sensitive skin. Liara gasped and bucked her hips, moving to grab his hair, his shoulder, his throat, anything she could get her hands on -- realizing that James still had her pinned to the wall.

“I want to touch you,” Liara purred.

James released her, sinking lower, kissing over her ribs, her navel, lower still until he was breathing hot and heavy against her wet skin and slipping her thighs over his shoulders.

Liara pushed her fingers into his hair, feeling her body tremble, her insides quiver. If not for James supporting her she would have fallen, ashamedly, to the floor. She was on fire within and without, too desperate for him, too desperate for his touch inside of her and not just playing on her skin. His tongue pressed, circled, eased inside, and Liara lost her breath, lost her wits, lost her inhibition.

“Goddess,” Liara whispered, pulling roughly at James’ hair until he looked up at her. His lips and chin were wet, his mouth turned up at the corners in a smirk. “Now,” Liara said. She imagined she must have looked like an Asari Goddess to him then, unsmiling and eyes on fire, and she couldn’t help but laugh as James got to his feet and unfastened his pants, pulling them low on his thighs.

He hooked his arms under her knees, pushing her against the wall roughly. He rocked his hips forward, the head of his cock rubbing against her. Liara reached down and took hold of him, her thumb pressing in over his slit, his pre-come sticky. James shivered and made a noise that was half-chuckle and half-groan. He licked his lips as Liara guided him in, her face twisting and her teeth biting down on her bottom lip when he broke inside.

She had felt worse pain, that was true, but never had she felt such an exquisite pain; there seemed to be an unending amount of pleasure just beneath the surface, just out of her reach. Liara tilted her head back, keeping her cries muffled behind her lips as James bucked forward, deeper inside of her, his breath ragged and rough on her throat.

Liara wrapped her arms around James’ neck and held him tight, her nails cutting into his back. Gradually, the pain lessened and the pleasure took hold, no longer a tingle buried underneath, just beneath the surface of her skin, but something that was both swelling deep inside of her and spreading all over her.

If James had known she had never been with a man before, he wouldn’t have been so rough. He would have bridled his passion and tamed himself, kept his hips slow and steady, his kiss soft, his teeth light on her skin. Liara wanted him to be rough, to be unhinged, to be like a live-wire under her hands. She wanted bruises and bites that left imprints on skin and a pain and pleasure so intense they sank into her bones.

Everything was fleeting; Thessia, Earth, their very existence. So, too, was this moment, this heat, this closeness, this sweat on their skin and their shared breath. Let the pain be intense, let the pleasure be twice that. Let it be what it would be in the time they had.

“Liara,” James grunted, his hips slamming against her, his skin slick under her roaming fingertips. “I can’t---”

She was empty, the pain a dull throb, the pleasure extinguished. James kept her propped up against the wall with one arm, his free hand moving down to stroke his cock. His face tightened, his jaw twitching, his teeth locked around a deep, guttural moan as he came over her stomach. His hips pumped, slowly, erratically, with no rhythm.

He let her thigh slip from his arm. Liara felt weak in the knees, far too content with what had happened to let the pain bother her. She took him into her arms, holding his face against her throat, running kisses from his ear to his jaw.

James touched her thigh, drawing up his fingertips. “You’re bleeding,” he said.

“Yes,” Liara murmured, “That’s all right.”

“You... shoulda told me,” James sighed, “I didn’t wanna hurt you, Liara.”

She wanted to say he hadn’t hurt her, he had freed her, at least momentarily, from her own despair and grief. Instead, Liara kissed his temple. “Thank you,” she said.

He had no idea what she was thanking him for, but that was all right, too.

Liara didn’t know either.


	3. Burn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If there was a better time, James didn’t know when it was. It was sunny, and there was rubble everywhere, and it was oppressively hot and her eyes were the prettiest damn eyes he’d ever seen in his entire life. He could count the freckles fanned across her nose and cheeks, and he sighed, “I love you.”
> 
> Liara stared at him like he’d grown an extra head.
> 
> Probably not the best sign.

iii. Burn

Once upon a time, James Vega hadn’t known anything about Commander John Shepard. He remembered looking at the man he had heard stories about, prepared for a myth, a man taller and broader than a mountain, one who never smiled, or laughed, or held kindness in his eyes. And he had seen nothing but a man, dog-tired, with a smile that came quickly and eyes that shone brightly no matter how much death and pain and suffering they’d seen.

He’d seen a man with lines on his face and scars on his knuckles and dirt under his fingernails. A Commander, a saving grace, an old soldier -- and, over time, James Vega’s _friend_.

So it hurt, it hurt like _hell_ , to stand there in front of the stoic, stone-faced crowd as Commander John Shepard was put in the ground.

He stood between Kaidan and Liara; the former was given a hand at the back of his neck, the former found her fingers twined through his own. James leaned over to Kaidan as Hackett droned on about Shepard’s sacrifice and heroism, and he whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Kaidan’s face trembled, slightly, only for a moment. His jaw twitched as he ground his teeth together. He didn’t cry, he stood there dry-eyed. No one in that audience knew that Kaidan Alenko had loved John Shepard so much it made his bones and his heart ache. James knew, though, and his hand tightened on the nape of Kaidan’s neck. Old soldiers, he figured, had to stick together.

“Shepard,” Liara whispered, “Shepard would have... hated all of this.”

James chuckled. It was true. Shepard would have wondered why they were all wasting their time over his body when there was a whole world to rebuild -- _several_ worlds actually. Shepard had never wanted all of the fanfare. He had been perfectly happy saving the galaxy without any attention. It was the kind of man he was... or had been. Thinking of him in the past-tense made James’ chest tighten.

“Major Kaidan Alenko, Second Human Spectre, would like to say a few words about the Commander.”

The crowd erupted into wild cheering. Kaidan’s face flushed, sweat clinging to his temples. James gave his neck another comforting squeeze before Kaidan was out of his reach and standing at the podium over the mound of dirt that held Shepard’s body. Not Commander, not the Hero everyone wanted to hear about, just Kaidan Alenko’s lover, his friend, his sanity check.

“Poor Kaidan,” Liara murmured, her fingers curling tighter through James’. “I can’t imagine what it must feel like. We all lost a friend, the man we trusted more than anyone. But Kaidan---”

“He’s strong,” James said, “This isn’t gonna break him.”

“Maybe not,” Liara said, “But it will certainly try.”

****  
What the leaders never told you was what came after the war was over. When you handed a soldier a gun and told him to go there and do this and don’t do that, he was at his happiest. It was later, when the dust was settled and the gun was replaced with a medal pinned to his chest that it became uncertain.

James did what he could, helping out in London, spending six weeks in Johannesburg, another six in Istanbul, moved around like a piece on a chessboard. He wanted to tell Traynor if this was a game of chess, Shepard must have been playing, because he was getting his ass kicked, but Traynor wasn’t around and Shepard was dead.

It hit him then that there would be no more sparring, no more pep talks, no more shared laughter in the Shuttle Bay while Cortez tinkered in the corner with the Kodiak. Shepard was gone, just bone in the earth now, as insubstantial as the dust on Vega’s boots. It hurt in a new kind of way, a way that James thought might kill him if he let it sink its claws in too deep.

“How you holdin’ up, Major?”

Kaidan’s smoky voice came through James’ Omni-tool amazingly clear. “Well as I can be,” he said, “Doing... doing what I need to. Apparently I look like shit though. My mom made me stay home today.” He laughed, the sound small, broken, but _trying_ to be cheerful. “That sounded really, really pathetic.”

“Momma knows best, right?” James asked. “Just take care of yourself, Vanilla.”

“Hey, yeah,” Kaidan said, “You too, James. Thanks... Thanks for calling.”

No problem. Never a problem. James called all of them, kept in contact, told them to take care, to be good, to be safe. Garrus told him, once, that if he called one more time he was going to wedge a rifle up his ass. James waited a few days before calling him again.

“James,” Garrus began.

“Yeah, I know,” James said, “Rifle. Just be gentle with me, Scars. It’s my first time.”

“If you keep calling, I’m going to think you’re a little... What would Shepard have said... A little sweet on me,” Liara whispered. Her voice was like a balm for him. When they spoke, Vega rested back on his cot with his eyes closed and his room dark. She whispered to him through his Omni-tool, but with his eyes closed, she was right there with him.

“Hey, who says I’m not?” James asked, chuckling. “You think I call you to hear about the inner-workings of the galaxy, Liara?”

No, that was why everyone else called her. She never would have said as much, but James knew she was tired, worn out, worked down to the raw nerve. It was a hell of a thing when you took the gun out of a soldier’s hands, particularly when that soldier wasn’t really a soldier at all. Information was Liara’s weapon of choice, but she was growing weary of it. James could tell from just the slight monotone in her voice.

“Might need to swing by and rescue you,” James murmured.

Liara chuckled. “Oh, I don’t know about that. It’s... complicated.” There was a long pause, so long that James was worried the connection had been lost -- with the roving power outages and shoddy extranet link-up it wouldn’t be the first time -- but she was still there. Liara took in a slow, deep breath, and released it in a sigh. “I miss you,” she said, “I suppose that sounds rather silly of me---”

“No,” James said. His heart was beating hard and fast. He felt like a kid with his first crush, all sweaty palms and shaky knees and butterflies in his stomach.

“You know,” Liara said. Oh, good, she had on her Professor T’Soni voice, the one that made his skin prickle with gooseflesh and his dick hard. “The next time I see you... I’ve made some purchases you might be... rather intrigued by.”

“Purchases?” James asked. His voice squeaked.

_Smooth_ , he thought.

“Rather... lacy purchases,” Liara whispered. “Lacy, sheer purchases. In one case... an edible purchase.”

“Oh,” James breathed. He had never been hornier in his entire life. Not even as a teenager when he’d stumbled across his dad’s porno mags. He swallowed and his spit stuck to the sides of his throat. The sexiest voice in the galaxy seducing him through the extranet and all he could do was repeat, “Oh,” as though she hadn’t heard him before.

 

Liara laughed. God, she sounded good when she laughed. And when she sighed. And when she _breathed_.

“Get some sleep,” she said, “It’s late.”

“Yeah,” James agreed, “Talk to you later, Liara. I---” Love you, he almost said. James coughed on the word. “I, uh, I’ll see you.”

_Smooth again, pendejo_.

She disconnected. James laid there staring up at the ceiling.

It was a long time before he could get to sleep.

****

Steve came around as often as he could, usually with greasy food that James was all too eager to shovel into his face. They drank warm beer, usually with a twist in their mouths, and bullshitted until it was time for Steve to leave. Sometimes he was too drunk and had to spend the night, because _amigos_ didn’t let their _amigos_ drive drunk. Or something like that.

“Guess you always knew I had a crush on you,” Steve said. James had given him the bed and taken the floor. He wished he could have ignored the little note of sadness in Steve’s voice, but he couldn’t.

“Yeah,” James said. Damn, why did everything have to be so awkward? James would’ve been happy just going to sleep and waking up and having a cup of coffee with Steve before saying goodbye.

“Stupid,” Steve whispered, “Really stupid. I knew... you know. There wasn’t a chance. But you’re a hell of a guy, Vega. Guess I couldn’t really help myself.”

“It’s okay, Esteban,” James said, “Really, man, don’t beat yourself up or anything. I mean, hey, not many people can resist me. I’m one damn fine _hombre_.”

Cortez laughed, and it made things a little better. Still, though, James felt guilty. It was a stupid way to feel. He hadn’t done anything wrong, and neither had Steve. Sometimes what your heart wanted and what your head told you was possible were on two different planets, in two different systems, nestled in two different galaxies.

“You love her,” Steve said.

 

He wasn’t on the line with Liara, listening to her sweet, slightly husky laugh, feeling his gut tighten and pulse with heat. James said, “Yeah,” with little hesitance.

“Good,” Steve murmured, “You need someone, James. Someone to take care of you, look out for you, maybe get your stubborn ass to sit down and take it easy every once in a while.”

“Hell, Esteban, I got you for that.”

Steve chuckled. It shouldn’t have sounded sad, but it did.

“Sure,” he said, “Always, James.”

****

James took Liara to a little cafe the first night she was in Istanbul. She told him about the rebuilding effort on Thessia, and he told her about his duties chasing off mercs and thieves while sweating his ass off in his fatigues and trying not to collapse from a heat stroke. Liara’s hand rested on his, her fingers stroking his knuckles.

If there was a better time, James didn’t know when it was. It was sunny, and there was rubble everywhere, and it was oppressively hot and her eyes were the prettiest damn eyes he’d ever seen in his entire life. He could count the freckles fanned across her nose and cheeks, and he sighed, “I love you.”

Liara stared at him like he’d grown an extra head.

Probably not the best sign.

He waited for her to say something, _anything_ , but Liara remained quiet, still looking at him as though he were some unknown species. James cleared his throat, fingers slipping from Liara’s hand to rub at the back of his neck. Everything had to be awkward. First Cortez, now Liara. James wondered if he shouldn’t just go to Garrus and tell him he’d wanted his gun inside of him for a long time. It would certainly round things out nicely.

Vega liked his miseries to come in threes.

“‘Ey, you know,” James muttered, “Feel free to say _somethin’_ ”

“I... Thank you.”

James blinked. _Thank you_?

Really, he was too stunned to think of anything witty to say, or to tell her that when a person said they loved you, the absolute worst thing you could say to them was _thank you_. You either said you loved them too, or laid it out raw and naked for them that you _didn’t_ , and you _wouldn’t_.

“You’re welcome,” James said.

****

_Thank you_.

She laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling, those two words cycling through her mind until she felt sick.

_Thank you, thank you, thank you._

Was she so cold that she couldn’t look him in the eyes and tell him she loved him, that for the longest time she had wanted only him? Was she so used to dealing with underhanded tactics and insincere words and shadowy figures at the edges of her vision that she couldn’t place her trust in a person who had been so good to her?

Her instincts told her no, she couldn’t afford trust. Her heart told her she couldn’t afford _not_ to trust.

Liara thought of what she had lost, of words she had let die in her throat, of things she had been forced to let expire in her heart. There was no more time for caution, no more time for believing that sitting on the sidelines was better than playing in the dirt and getting a little bruised. She supposed she would much rather be hurt than feel nothing at all.

More than anything, Liara thought of Shepard. How he had worn his heart pinned on his sleeve, how he had looked at everyone in the eye and told them just what they meant to him, how proud he was, how much he needed them. Shepard had died for the galaxy, that was true, but Liara doubted the whole of creation had been on his mind when he had done whatever he had done on the Citadel. She believed, in her heart _and_ her gut, that Shepard had been thinking of them.

Thinking of shooting bottles atop the Presidium with Garrus.

Of Thane lying in a bed without a respirator, wanting the clean air in his brittle lungs.

Liara in his room, letting her choose the story that was told, trusting her with his life and his legacy.

Steve at the Memorial Wall, crying, but strong. Determined. Not a Commander’s hand on his shoulder, but a _friend’s_.

Tali standing on the edge of a cliffside, under _her_ sky, on the rocks and dirt of her home, removing her mask, letting the warm Rannoch wind touch her face.

Kaidan in the night, soft curves and soft eyes, love too sweet to speak of, too sweet _not_ to.

All of them, Liara wagered, had been on his mind when he had taken his last steps and performed his last act of kindness. Nothing as simple as telling a child he would be all right or a wife that her husband had died bravely, but it was an act of kindness Liara had known Shepard would rise to the occasion for.

There she was, afraid to love, to let herself be placed in someone elses hands, while Shepard had lived his life for everyone else; if not the entire galaxy, then the people he loved.

She stood and walked to the door of her small condo, stopping only for a moment to look at the small piece of Shepard’s armor she had managed to find in the rubble of the Citadel. Sometimes it helped to be the Shadow Broker, but most times, it was nothing more than a lot of noise, and a lot of looking over your shoulder.

Liara passed her fingers over the N7, giving a small, sad smile.

“All right, Shepard,” she whispered, “I’m going to try.”

****

James heard the knock at his door, but he ignored it. The last thing he wanted was to talk with asshole about how he had done something wrong, or stepped on somebody’s delicate little toes, or any number of things he had most likely done since coming to Istanbul.

Liara’s voice carried through the door: “James. I know it’s late, but I thought, perhaps, we could talk?”

After what she had done that afternoon, James should have stayed where he was, pretended he hadn’t heard her. But he couldn’t do that. He hadn’t lied when he said he loved her. He loved her in a way that made him forget his own name and what he was supposed to be doing. He loved her in a way that carried his feet across the floor without his brain having any input.

She was just something inside of him now. There was nothing he could do about it.

There were no words. James guessed they should have talked -- considering Liara had said that was the reason she was there -- but when Liara was in his arms and her mouth was against his, there wasn’t that much to talk about.

Unlike their first experience, hard and fast against the wall of her office, Liara led James to his bed. His hands touched her face, her throat, her shoulders, her breasts, anywhere and everywhere they could reach. And then there _were_ words, soft and warm against his chest, right over his heart. “I love you,” Liara said, and after that, nothing else mattered.

They explored each other in the darkness with trembling fingertips and mouths and slow, gentle flicks of their tongues. Liara took James into her mouth with a small groan in her chest, letting his fingers reach under her to cup her breast and feel the slow, hard beat of her heart. It wasn’t a frenzy, it wasn’t chaotic, it was easy and tender and Liara mounted James’ hips with her eyes the only thing he could see in the darkness.

Her body rose and fell at a steady pace; slow and _hard_.

James gripped her hips, meeting her at every drop, pushing up into her. He closed his eyes, listened to his heart in his ears and the sound of her rough, ragged breath. She was everything, in that moment and every moment after; _she was everything_.

Liara touched his face, curled her nails into his cheeks. James felt her tighten around him, and she breathed something. James heard her and felt the hairs rise all over his body. “Embrace eternity,” Liara said, biting her lip, letting her head fall back.

James shifted his hands from her hips to her breasts. “Yeah,” he whispered back, scared, excited, too lost in the heat of her to let his brain dictate what his heart wanted. “Yeah,” he repeated, “Let’s do it.”

There was no describing it. The “melding”, the two bodies becoming one, the horror of losing himself, only to learn that he never had. What he had done was _find_ himself, in her eyes, in her hands, inside of her. Liara cried out as she came, and James followed after her, letting his body focus on what his mind couldn’t.

When the heat faded and their breath settled and everything was quiet, James held Liara against him and pressed his lips against her forehead. He kept his arm around her, not sure if he would ever be able to let her go. Sometimes, he figured, letting go was necessary, other times, it was impossible. It’d be a hell of a lot easier for James to rip out of his own heart than to unwind his arm from Liara’s waist.

“James,” Liara whispered. Her breath was warm and damp against his nipple. She looked up, licking her lips before smiling. “Thank you.”

He laughed and kissed her nose.

“Hey,” James said, “You’re welcome.”


End file.
